


Epiphany

by WarriorBeeoftheSea



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [23]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Coming Out, Crushes, DEC 17 - Musicians, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea/pseuds/WarriorBeeoftheSea
Summary: There's something about Baz's violin teacher...
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557757
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Epiphany

Watford has no music department. 

Or at least it didn't when I went there. Perhaps Headmistress Bunce has fixed that by now. 

Needless to say, my violin lessons were not delivered by Watford staff. My father hired a violin virtuoso (magician, of course) to come to Watford each week to tutor me. We didn't even have a proper room to meet in. 

In retrospect, it occurs to me that this must have been expensive, and possibly frivolous. 

I'm glad all the same that my father paid for it. Playing my violin helped me stay sane during the more frustrating times at school. 

My violin teacher, Mr. Richards, was a grumpy older man who had little patience for teaching children. But he was brilliant, and when I could keep up and get past his jabs, I felt myself becoming a stronger musician. 

Except for my third year, when Mr. Richards took a sabbatical in Romania and left behind another of his students to teach me in his absence. 

Mr. Andrews. He couldn't have been older than twenty five and seemed taken aback whenever I'd address him as _sir._

Mr. Andrews taught me all of third year, and he... 

I... 

_We..._

No. There was no _we._

I was thirteen. And he was beautiful.

I hadn't yet realized I was queer. Or I suppose Mr. Andrews _was_ my realization. 

It was his hands I noticed first. Strong, muscular, but delicate. Large hands. He'd adjust my hold on my bow, his fingers touching my hand, and my body felt alight. That innocent touch played through my mind over and over. Especially at night. 

I'm embarrassed to admit that I started calculating how old Mr. Andrews would be when I finished at Watford. 

But it wasn't until I started daydreaming about kissing him that it occurred to me that I might not be straight. 

I had it _bad._

He spoke to me about it in vague terms once and I just about self immolated. 

"Basilton," he said. "It's important for you to focus on your peers. You know, spend time with people your own age."

I looked at him blankly.

"Perhaps there's a girl... or a boy, maybe? Someone you could take to the solstice ball coming up."

It was the first time anyone had acknowledged out loud that I might want to be with a boy. And I was dead embarrassed.

I wondered how he could have known. I'd been so careful, so subtle. (I've since realized, after catching the eye of a few girls and more than one boy, that the way a person looks at someone they want can be _really fucking obvious.)_

I was so upset by the vague _non-confrontation_ that I had no choice but to dump all of Snow's socks into the moat.

The rest of the year with Mr. Andrews was well awkward. I tried to stop thinking about him, I really did. And maybe I tried to distract myself with boys my own age. (I never _did_ anything, just thought about it. A _lot._ I had far too much self loathing to attempt anything else.)

But then... Maybe that's when I started to notice Simon. 

Turns out that Mr. Andrews wasn't a very good teacher, as Mr. Richards pointed out when he returned for my fourth year. 

"Your posture is awful, Mr. Pitch. What have you been doing all year?" 

Daydreaming, evidently.


End file.
